The Colors Of The Rainbow
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Carby fluff, but somehow spoiler free. You should read it. You know you want to.


Title: The Colors Of The Rainbow  
  
Rating: I'd have to give it a G  
  
Spoilers: None, really. This is AU (a first for me, and probably an only) and takes place not too far in the future. It's Carby, though.  
  
Archive: If you want this one, please do.  
  
Disclaimer: I only own one character in this story. I'll give you three guesses as to who it is, and the first two don't count. I don't own "Hey Little Man," either, but I will take credit if you develop a liking for EFO.  
  
Feedback: Needed and required. Please.  
  
Author's Notes: At the end.  
  
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Abby has always claimed that she can't sing. However, I can't really be objective about that since the only times I've heard her sing, I've been in love with her. So, I think it sounds great. And, usually, the people who say they can't sing are generally the ones who can.  
  
Consequently, I've never heard a more beautiful sound than my wife singing to our baby.  
  
I'm nearly in tears listening to it, actually.  
  
I still have a hard time believing that Abby is my wife, nevermind that we now have a tiny little baby. I was too afraid to hope that any of this could ever be true, so the fact that it's a reality stops me in my tracks from time to time.  
  
I thought getting Abby to marry me would be a long, arduous, albeit worthwhile, process. I had thought about it and thought about it, I came up with a solution to just about anything she could possibly think of to say that we shouldn't get married. In the end, it wound up being really easy: All I had to do was ask. I said, "Will you marry me," and she immediately said, "Yes."  
  
Only a few months later, we were married. Neither of us wanted to waste any more time with dawdling. Just a couple of months after we became husband and wife, we starting talking about kids. Whether or not we were going to have them, when we might want to start trying to have them, that sort of thing. About a month after those discussions began, Abby told me that it was a moot point because she was already pregnant. Only a little over a month pregnant, but pregnant nonetheless. Somehow, between the Pill and condoms, I managed to get her pregnant. It didn't take much for us to realize that it was meant to be. If a child can be conceived through all of that protection, how could it be anything but something that was somehow supposed to happen?  
  
Abby was terrified during the entire pregnancy. Not that the baby was ever in any kind of danger. In fact, those nine months were actually quite uneventful, aside from us expecting our first child. She was just scared about becoming a mother, or about becoming her mother, or that I would freak out and leave her. But the first time she held our son in her arms, she became a totally different person. She was calm and collected and seemed to know instantly what to do. All of her fears evaporated, and she concentrated on being the best mother possible. I'd have to say she's been doing a pretty damn good job at it, too.  
  
She's always holding him. She says she loves the feeling of him in her arms, and even when she's old and gray, she's going to be cradling our son in her arms.  
  
The only negative side to this is that she's almost always the one who gets up when he cries at night, and she's exhausted. It's not that I don't want to, but she's out of bed before I can even open my eyes, and when I tell her that I'll take care of him, she says that she doesn't mind. I don't think she's had a full night's sleep since her sixth month, and the baby's now three months old. Not that she's complaining; I haven't heard her once mention anything about being tired. I honestly don't know how she does it.  
  
So far, she hasn't gone back to work. She's been staying home with his majesty, not wanting to let him go. The two of them definitely have a special bond. Of course, there's usually a special bond between a mother and her children. I would think carrying someone around for nine months would do that. But they're close, and I love it.  
  
We've been discussing the work situation a lot lately. If there's a possible scenario, we've talked about it. We've talked about her becoming a stay at home Mom, about me becoming a stay at home Dad, about hiring a babysitter or nanny while we both work (though neither of us are thrilled with that idea), we've talked about both of us staying at home since it's not absolutely necessary for us to work, but the idea that we seem to be leaning toward the most at the moment is opening a private practice. We both love working in the ER, but it's not conducive to raising a child. He needs stability, and he can have that if we open our own practice. We could work from nine to five, and bring him with us. It's actually quite an attractive idea.  
  
In the meantime, however, Abby's been at home with him while I've been at work. I think that may be part of the reason why she's always the one to take care of him when he cries at night. For some reason, she thinks she shouldn't be tired because she's always at home, and I'm at work a lot. However, I'm pretty sure that taking care of an infant all the time is more exhausting than working a double at the hospital. I get exhausted just thinking about how she does it.  
  
So, when the baby started crying for the fourth or fifth time tonight, I was more than willing to get up to take care of him, especially since she had taken care of him each time before (though, I did get out of bed a couple of times anyway, because I like being with my son). But she just kissed my forehead and told me to go back to sleep. So, I did for a little while, but I woke up when she wasn't there and realized she had been gone for about half an hour. I looked to the baby monitor, trying to hear what was going on in the nursery, but Abby had turned it off. Obviously, I had to get out of bed to investigate.  
  
Standing outside of the baby's room, I could hear what sounded like soft singing, though it was kind of hard to tell since the door had been mostly shut. Not wanting to interrupt, I opened the door as quietly as possible find out what was going on.  
  
Abby was sitting in the rocking chair, which she had turned to face the window, holding our baby, singing to him. Though, I still couldn't quite hear what it was she was singing. And, since I'm nosy, I crept further into the room to hear.  
  
I guess they'd reached the end of the song by that point, but I saw her lean forward and hit a button on the cd player. I don't know why she was singing along to a cd, but I figured she had her reasons.  
  
The only words I could make out were, "Hey little man, whatcha gonna dream about tonight." The rest of it was kind of indistinct, at least to my sleep-fogged mind. Still, it was beautiful. I'm not sure if was hearing her sing to our baby, or the look on her face which I could just barely see from where I was standing-complete and utter admiration and amazement-or a combination of both, but there was no denying that there was something astounding about seeing this woman who was so sure that she shouldn't be a mother looking as if she was born to do this.  
  
Still curious, I sneaked further into the room, not wanting to disturb their moment. I manage to make it over to the rocking chair without her noticing me. Looking over the shoulder, I can see that the little prince is wide awake, seemingly with no interest in sleep at the moment. But he's gazing at his mother as if she was the moon and stars, and I feel a lump forming in my throat. This is why she's been the one to get up with him at all hours of the night after taking care of him all day. The time when a son needs his mother like this, before he starts turning to his father to answer his questions on life, is so short that I don't want to take it away from her. Not so many years from now, he's going to feel like he doesn't need his mother around all the time, fussing and babying him. Chances are, he'll come to me for the things he needs, no matter how big or small, because he'll think his mother is going to make a big deal out of it.  
  
I guess Abby hears me sniffle or something, because she tears her eyes away from the baby to look at me. She flashes me a smile, though she doesn't stop singing. I wait until the song ends and she's reached over to push the power button the on cd player before attempting to speak.  
  
She beats me to it. "Could you do me a favor and pretend you never heard that?"  
  
I chuckle softly and move around so I'm sitting on the floor near her feet, and ignore her request. "What were you singing?"  
  
She shrugs, careful not to jostle the baby too much. "Just something that reminds me of him."  
  
"If you were singing a White Stripes song to our baby, we may have to have a talk."  
  
Abby just grins at me. "I would not subject our son to that kind of music. Not at this hour of the night, at least."  
  
I give her foot a little nudge. "Seriously, though, what was it?"  
  
"You've never heard of the group."  
  
"Try me."  
  
"Eddie From Ohio?"  
  
"You're right. I've never heard of them."  
  
Her grin grows even wider. "It's a song called 'Hey Little Man.' I thought it was somewhat appropriate."  
  
"Sounds like it." We're silent for several moments before I ask, "Where do you come up with these groups?"  
  
"Don't judge me," she says, finally nudging my foot in return. "It's all part of my charm."  
  
I just smile at her. "It sounded beautiful." Even in the dark room, I can see her face growing red. "Honestly. I've never heard anything more beautiful in my entire life."  
  
"I bet you say that to all the girls."  
  
"Only the ones who have born my child." The banter's slow tonight, though I'm blaming that on the fact that it's about four in the morning. "So, why were you singing along with the cd? Sounded like you knew it pretty well."  
  
She shrugs carefully again. "Partly because I can never remember all the words without hearing the song. And partly because I'm self-conscious about singing, even though he has no idea what I'm doing, and I feel better if I have someone else to back me up. I know it sounds goofy, but it's how I operate."  
  
I'm not one to judge, especially not my wife. "Is this something you two do on a regular basis?"  
  
"About every other night or so. He'll have moments, like this, where he doesn't want to sleep, and music seems to relax him, so I just got in the habit of singing to him. Now, we mainly stick to that one song, not only because I like it, but because the repetition of it does eventually lull him to sleep."  
  
"How's he doing now?" She looks down into our son's face. "He's nodding off. Finally. Took you long enough." The last part is directed to him in a whisper.  
  
"Think he's ready to go back to bed?" I ask, lowering my voice to a whisper as well.  
  
"Yeah," she answers, moving to stand. I quickly get to my feet to help her up in the hope that he'll be less likely to wake up again if he doesn't notice that he's being moved.  
  
She gently places him in his cradle, and the two of stand there for a while, just watching him. I can't help being blown away every time I look at him. I still find it hard to believe that we created this perfect little creature. He's so beautiful. Definitely the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. Not that I'm biased or anything. Abby's always saying that he looks like me, but seeing him asleep like this, there's no questioning that he's his mother's son. He looks just like her, and I couldn't be happier. Even if he's the only baby we have, I'm the luckiest man who ever walked the planet. An amazing wife and one perfect little child is more than most people can claim.  
  
I finally tear my eyes away from him, and find that Abby has been watching me watch him, a smile playing on her lips. I just smile back, knowing words aren't necessary right now. I put my arm around her waist, and we make our way back to our bedroom. Once there, we snuggle into bed together, and I make sure I turn on the monitor before I get too comfortable and manage to forget.  
  
"I love you, Abby," I whisper, pulling her as close to me as possible.  
  
"I know," she answers, just as softly. "I love you, too."  
  
I don't know what I did to deserve this life. I really don't. But I am so grateful someone saw fit to bring this woman into my life. I would never have known true happiness without her.  
  
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Author's Notes: This was definitely inspired by a song, but there was no way I could write it in the current context of the show, so I decided to veer off a little, and I hope I did okay. I strongly recommend you go out and by "Quick" by EFO; it's completely awesome. I want to thank them for the song. A shout out to the Brothel is always necessary because they seem to be two of my biggest champions when it comes to my writing. They seem to like it, so I know they're delusional, but I love them anyway. But I also want to give a shout out and thanks to all the other writers out there that I admire but never review who are awesome and amazing and inadvertently push me to try to write better. Especially TinyStar, who I've sort of just discovered, but is phenomenal. Read her stuff now. And review it because it needs more recognition than what it's getting. 


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